


of the lost gift

by crystallizedcherry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (Slightly) Historical, F/M, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/crystallizedcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone called herself Isabella came to Emma in her vacation with Antonio, unveiled something hidden from her for centuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of the lost gift

**Author's Note:**

> the only historical facts in this work are these following:
> 
> ***)** Alcazaba of of Almería, the historical building in southern Spain  
>  ***)** Tomás Luis de Victoria, a musician

_hetalia (c) hidekazu himaruya  
_ the author takes no profit in the making.

.

canon; a little bit historical in some aspects

.

**#**

The last thing she saw was the old ceiling covered in dust and fading vine motifs. Between the clouds of her mind and her pulses processing normally in the quiet night, Emma could see the rush hour and she was in her car, with Antonio sleeping on the passenger seat, and she smiled after nodded and said _yes_ to one of the federal workers on the phone.

When she opened her eyes in the time she thought was just a second away from the sight of main city’s crossroad, however, all she found was his back facing her.

Then she laid on her back, for the second time staring at the ceiling with spider web on the corner and rusty chandelier hanging hopelessly near the middle.

The creaking sound of the bed alarmed her.

This was not her house.

Nor was his.

**#**

Somewhere around the middle of the room, Emma spotted a container with rusty lock. When she registered her mind—twice tonight after waking up in the middle of her clouds of dream—her lips curved a smile. This was not their house, and the free weekend was still going on with additional of another free weekdays. Longer days here would invite another bucks of sensations, she thought, and everything felt fine.

She was still standing there, by the window whose curtain was old and dusty enough to make an allergic person to suffer wearisomely. The frame, peeking from the edge of the hanging previously-golden cloth, was a mountain of dust someone could carve a hole of cave.

Emma put her teacup on the container and crossed the room to go back to the bed.

Antonio was way too heavy-sleeper to notice her absence beside him, thus she left everything as it previously had been, and went to sleep once more.

No rush hour between the cloud of fantasy her brain created this time.

Instead, a little girl emerged from nowhere.

And scattered papers around her, a harp with many broken strings awaited behind.

**#**

“So, Em, this castle haunted you in your dream or some furnitures are too old-fashioned for you to enjoy?”

Emma didn’t listen to him wholefully unless he put his hand on her shoulder, and later, her chin. The woman tried to give him her best smile but he knew her the best, he had known her inside and out for centuries she couldn’t even comprehend how much he could reveal something about her.  Emma shrugged, yet let his hand lingered on her chin.

Then the breakfast was neglected. It might be only a loaf of bread sliced into two and his handmade marmalade also her waffle and two cups of instant hot chocolate she brought by her own, he was so excited at first to eat in modern menu and style inside a medieval castle.

“I had a weird dream ....”

“I have told you before, right, if you don’t want this we are still able to choose the other place to spend our days together—”

“No, no, I love this castle, ‘Tonio. I love everything and the room is ethically pretty. It gives me a vibe of two cultures I always love to talk about. This is not something scary but I ....” She gazed at him while holding her breath, she sought comfort in him but all he gave was questioning look—and she exhaled as if trying to weigh away the heavy mysterious burden on her shoulders.

“You can’t talk nothing with me. _Bella_ , tell me the stuff you feel wrong.”

“A girl ....” Her weird hand gesture in the air, for a moment she was lost in words, “I can’t see her face clearly, but she was here ... in this castle,” her voice lowered into mere a whisper at the last part, and she paused in a moment he felt like hours. “She was staring at me for so long, yet spoke nothing. Scattered papers were around her and her gown ... you know things girls wear on a formal occasion in medieval era, right? However, the only musical instrument I saw, that was a harp, was broken, broken and entangled strings everywhere.”

He was in turn to stay silent.

“You must be have an idea about this castle, right, ‘Tonio? _Mon chéri,_ you alright?”

“Ah, sorry! I have no idea, Em, so let’s just enjoy the morning,” his tone became cheerful, he smiled too wide for her too resist—and she ended up pinching his cheek.

“I know. This is our holiday and a dream will not be a bother for us!” no longer the hard tone was heard from her. She laughed over herself.

Alcazaba offered more than fresh air she needed. In the right wing of the castle, she could see green and _alpenglow_ light of sunrise she always wanted to enjoy—without having to rush back and forth to office she was obliged to do—also the clear blue sky that revealed the truth to her: the world still has a pretty side. You only should go to an adventure.

**#**

It was started by social media. Emma could not deny how much important the thing was in this era, and she often rely on it for several cases, including lifestyle tips, life-hacking shortcuts, et cetera. They said that taking breaks sometimes from your daily activities was not mean you are not productive. Having a short vacation to far away place from home was instead a big leap towards more active days ahead, as it was a refreshment the brain needed.

Of course, after she talked about it with Antonio, he could offer everything in his hands. _I‘ve got a handful of beautiful and unique places you can be so lost inside, babe_ , he had said days ago by the phone.

Her choice fell to Alcazaba of Almería, located on southern Spain, built in Caliph of Cordoba era, later moderned in Ferdinand I of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile. She picked it randomly with shut eyes from the list he sent to her in a chat box, and it turned out to be something she would love. With the view of hills, she concluded that fate was sometimes pretty on its own way. This was the thing she yearned for, after days and weeks and months trapped in the metropolitan cities chained her to a routine in grayscale hues.

Though the castle was long abandoned with no one lived here like in the past, and only used to film some movies, there was still a room available for her, he guaranteed, but with the requirement that she must hold on to the dust covering everything.

“It’s okay! As long as we could find comfort there, why not, right?”

The dust he mentioned had caused her to sneeze four times while she was only half a minute standing by one of the windows, but she thought it was still fine. Everything was cool and tranquilizing also managed to retrieve her desire and determination for life.

Everything went smooth.

Until someone approached her.

“Pretty lady, are you listening to me?”

“Eh?” Emma lowered her cup and turned her head right.

“Lady, are you living here from now with your husband?”

She sneezed for the fifth time. And she blinked fast. Nothing was wrong in her sight. The little girl was not an illusion she thought she had one after walking around and sketching the lives that may be existed in the similar castles all around Spain.

“Who ... are you, dear?” Emma squatted before her tiny petite figure. Emma’s hands on her shoulder, and she peeked once to the girl’s feet—nothing wrong with all.

“But who are you, Lady?”

“I’m ....” she bit the inside of her cheek. “Okay, let’s imagine something. I am not human, but I am in human form. You could tell where are you from, pretty petite lady?” Emma smiled, though a simple one.

“I’m from ... Mama said that I am Spanish. I am from Spain, then ... am I correct?”

“The man you said my husband is Spain. So I am similar to him. I am where people come from. People say the place where they belong to with ‘nation’ term. So I am a nation. If you understand, I am their identity, just like you say that your origin is Spanish. Do you get it?” Emma blinked. _Oh, my, dear, my Spanish is too fast_.

“... A half, I think?”

“It is okay. So then, are you tourist? Where is your Mama, or Papa?”

“What is tourist?”

Emma grinned. “Visitor. You come here to sightsee the castle, right?”

“Who is visiting? I live here!”

Emma knitted her eyebrows. Was it Antonio who lied to her or this girl was daydreaming? She stood straight and looked around the room Antonio said was previously a music room. _Impossible_ , she whispered.

“How could you—”

“Who are you talking to, Em?”

“’Tonio, I—where is that girl?!” she almost shrieked, in seconds her eyes turned to him. “There was a girl here moments ago! I swear!”

“I saw no one come this way when I was in the corridor,” he pointed his thumb to his back. He grinned, “Are you sure you were talking to—”

“I touched her and she was real!”

“From what I heard, Em, there are some ghosts that have ability to trick you to see or feel something as a reality once you have direct eyecontact with them,” he wiggled his eyebrows as if it was a humor, but he was _Spain_ anyway.

Once she grasped the situation she rushed to his side and held his arm tightly. “Am I haunted?!”

He chuckled and took her body into his hold. One of his hands got her hair and her ribbon messed up. “Maybe your stress level is too high that you start to imagine things. Extend our holiday time here, shall we?”

“I’m not that bad,” she began to release his arm, (but he was not thinking the same), and she grumbled in French he hardly could grasp the meaning clearly. “Keep me distracted, will you?”

“Of course! Would you like to try _las naranjas_ out there in the garden, _Mi Bella_?”

**#**

He had suggested her to take a walk in nearby town or go to the traditional night market with disgusting themselves, but she declined politely with a smile he would end up giggling upon.

“I bring my knitting kit. I want to try doing something I have abandoned for so long. So, stay here, how?”

Antonio could not say no when she showed red and green and white balls of yarn she said she would gladly turn them into his winter sweater. She sat on the old couch by the window and he sat opposite to her, on a wooden chair with a game console (probably would do a soccer game, she guessed). He fell asleep in no time, when she just started combining two colors of red and white for the turtle neck.

Emma planned to make another one with reversed color for her, and maybe beanies for Lovino and her brothers, if she could make it to finish a half of this one tonight.

“What is that, Lady? You make something for your husband?”

She tried to calm herself, slipping the needle through red thread. Emma peeked through the corner of her eyes, the same girl was there, glaring at her with her lips pouted, _answer me!_ phrases as if could be heard from her expression.

“If you need something, dear pretty princess, just tell me,” she put the weaving on her lap, “so that I can grant your wish and you will rest in peace.”

“You think I’m a ghost?” the girl asked, her lips were trembling and her tears pooled on the corner of her mint-green eyes. Her chestnut ponytailed hair was waving as she shook her head tremendously. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, you are not a ghost, you are a princess!” Emma put her hands on her shoulders, patted them slightly and hid her reluctancy with positive stare. _She’s real ..._. “Now just talk about it; what are you looking for? Something is missing in this room?”

She pointed at the corner of the room, near the entrance, “Papa and Mama’s harp was previously there! I want to play it again with the song my Papa gave me as my birthday present!”

Emma turned to Antonio, who appeared to still in deep slumber, _mijn liefde, please_. She rolled her eyes.

“So ....” Emma stood up after placed her kit in the box. She held the girl’s pale and cold right hand and walked with her towards the direction she mentioned. “You can see, there is no harp here now. It means that it probably moved out or the harp was already broken so no one needs it anymore. You are from the past, pretty, you come here to something you miss before, something that is no longer exist.”

“Does it mean that I can’t play harp anymore? And learn from my Papa and Mama?”

Emma bit her lower lip. Standing on the corner, all she could do was only throwing her worried look to the wall.

“You can play it ... in your own world.”

“But I want to—”

“Baby, what is your name?”

“I’m ... Isabella ....” she started to sob, rubbing her eyes.

“Dear Isabella, listen to me.” Emma patted her back and kissed her crown of head, “We don’t want your Papa and Mama cry in your _real_ world. You are wandering here, do you know how’s their feeling? They will be worried a lot. Please, Isabella, with all my heart, I want you to rest in peace.”

“At least bring me the sheet of the music my Papa ordered a great to compose it for me ....”

“Where will be the place I have to look for first—”

“Em?” Antonio stretched his arms and blinked. “What are you doing there?”

Emma pinched her nose bridge, glancing again to the place Isabella previously stood, and she sighed. Again, she left without any trace and it bugged her too much. “That girl. Again. Okay, so tell me now, who was the noble family once lived here?” She paced back to her couch, throwing herself limply.

“’Was’? It was ‘were’, _Bella_.”

“There were so many of them?”

“Several families resided here, in the blocks we are currently spending our time.” Antonio rubbed his eyes and with hand propped on his knee, he supported his head, it fell limply as his tired mood was still in control. “After the royal families abandoned this castle, some nobles were moving in and out, but not in simultaneous period.”

“Do you remember the years?”

“Not really.” He rested his head on the chair. “Maybe two families in 1500s, some in 1600s, then it was left empty in 1700s to half centuries of 1800s. To the World War era, there was one or two families with the gap about two decades or three.” He stared at the ceiling _. Being (almost) immortal sometimes tiring but somehow it was good to see how the world changes_ , he blinked. He leaned into her, face inched closer, with no assuring smile this time, “Are you afraid of something, _Bella_?”

An eyebrow raised. “Do you think I am?”

“Seemingly so.”

“If you know me, you would understand that I would rather call it as a curiosity than merely a fear. Who am I, America, who will suddenly jump in the midnight of Halloween costume party?”

Antonio forced himself not to sneer. “What are you looking for in the past? It’s not like we can change it anyway, Em,” he was back into his usual self, with ear-to-ear grin she was suddenly yearning of. It woke her up, out of the blue, to a sudden realization; _he was rather sullen lately,_ in fact she was not mistaking her own assumption—Antonio was not a usual _Carriedo_ she knew for centuries whenever they found themselves in a peaceful atmosphere with only each other as the company.

“I have to find it out.”

“Find out what?” Unbeknownst to her, he had moved from his seat to by the window, eyes dull and blank—it might be the mental fog which still lingered in his eyes after a deep slumber he had taken peacefully, she concluded, but she couldn’t help but feeling uneasy over the look.

“The lost sheet.”

He rebuked in no time, “That thing was no longer exist.”

Emma was back to her feet. “How could you know?”

Antonio looked at her direction without his fiery look she had expected. “I’m Spain, I know and I can feel it.”

“It means you are hiding something from me!”

She waited for his answer yet he opened his mouth for nothing. Emma growled and turned her heels, leaving him with her unfinished work.

**#**

The last thing her eyes met, as long as she could recall, was the clock showing ten minutes after midnight and empty spot on her left. Now, however, she could tell that he was no longer the cold Antonio with dark mysterious cloud above him, with his fingers placed milimeters beside hers as if he was so reluctant in holding her before he had drifted into sleep.

She could feel her own breath and his steady rhythm. Emma sighed to his nose, and it as if could call him back to his consciousness. Antonio blinked lazily, Emma shifted closer.

She whispered, in the mildest tone she could try herself, “Is it okay if I take two or three days out on our vacation? I promise I will come back here and spend the rest of our nights and days without talking anything about my mission anymore.”

Antonio shut his eyes hard and long, before collected her in his arms and held her for the rest of the night. His fingers caressed her back and sometimes patted the small of her back humbly, but his lips spoke the whisper she could comprehend nothing.

**#**

Antonio was called back into reality with the rare sunlight in the beginning of autumn, to find that he woke up alone.

The absence of a hand luggage previously sat untouched in the corner of the antique bedroom kicked him to the revelation he would grunt for in a second later: Emma took the case very seriously.

**#**

“Where are you?”

“On the other side of your country,” a grin he surprisingly could feel from the opposite formed, “I’m not leaving Spain. Not leaving you at all.”

“ _Tsk_.”

“Don’t go looking for me. I’m fine by myself and once I find things the girl demanded me for, I’ll back to the palace.”

“You consider it very seriously. Em, do you know the probability that she was only your imagination?” he sighed.

“A woman aged more than eight hundred years still plays with imaginative figure in her mind like little kids walking on pavement with baby steps?”

“Em, tell me where you are now or else.”

“Or what?” noisy sound could be heard from her background, as if—he thought—she was in an airport. _Or she is?_

“I will confine you in Alcazaba and won’t let you walk away to Brussels. With my own way.” He didn’t smirk at the threat like she depicted him to be in her mind, instead, he exhaled.

“Long ago, in our time together with Lovino, I was no longer a girl you had to take care. Moreover, this time. Why are you so sensitive over this case? I’m just helping someone from the _neighborhood world_ to get back what she deserves.”

“Because it brings back the memory I want to forget for the rest of my life.”

Emma fell silent. He hung up his call.

**#**

“So, we are very sorry, Ma’am, all we could provide is limited to this.”

Emma unfolded the scroll the man offered her to examine, on the wooden table recently polished and it reflected the sunlight well, near the window it was placed. She scrutinized the chart on the paper carefully, finger tracing along the line connecting each cloud with name labeled into it.

“For your info, this chart is a replica. We can’t show the original version to people since it was damaged by time. Pardon us, Miss Belgium.”

The timeline placed at the upper part of the long scroll ended in the 1500s, in which she frowned upon. She traced back to the middle part, only to find herself lost in her own track. What is she looking for in such a long scroll containing list of a noble family the curator said had inherited right to occupy the palace, with the name ‘Isabella’ was listed more than twelve times in the family tree?

Emma did a snap of fingers, she tried to speculate. Judging on the appearance of Isabella haunting her for days, she concluded that it might be Isabella died at such a young age, in which seconds later scattered her heart. Centuries living in the cruel world didn’t mean her heart would harden its stance over the sensitive things regarding human’s life.

_Whoever wrote this family tree, may God bless you_ , Emma sighed. Her index finger once again pointed all along the small cloud with years of their life inserted into it.

“Too much.” She shook her head. People’s life span back then was surely shorter than people nowadays. She raised an eyebrow towards the curator, she suddenly thought of something useful could be earned from her.

“You need something more, Miss?”

“Do you know the time when harp was widely used, especially in this family?”

The young man looked startled. His eyes avoided hers for a moment, he replied with hesitancy, “I don’t know so much about this noble family, Miss Belgium ... and the period when harp was on its highest peak, but I think I can analyze something based on my experience. This family, just like other noble families, often consider music as an important aspect of their life, so that they at least brought one grand piano along with them wherever they decided to reside. However, piano was flourished only after Renaissance period, circa the late of eighteenth century, so we can assume that harp, the older musical instrument, might be the family’s buddy in 1500s to 1700s.”

“Genius!” she once again snapped her fingers and drummed it later impatiently on the table as her other hand tracing back to the scroll with narrowed section.

In no time, she could find three Isabellas on the upper part, around the 16 and 17th century, and only one of them who could not make it into adolescence age.

Isabella Fernandez, six years old, the only child of the family, her uncle was a baron in southwest Spain. Emma widened her eyes finding out her parents’ age; her mother had died in such a young age, only 21, and her father had barely reached his twenty third birthday before the death claimed his life.

“You know something about this young girl?”

“Which one ... oh, pardon me, Miss, I barely read their history in 1500s until 1700s. It is almost unavailable, morevoer for those who had claimed limited right over some lands. If you look for the principals or barons, I can help with asking my friends in the other department.”

“I see ....” Emma reached for a chair she just realized it was there. With the scroll lifted in the air, she could not take her eyes from Isabella’s name.

There must be some reasons why she loved music so much, and reason why she begged for the music sheet so much, and the relation to her father.

“Forgive me for asking too much,” she lowered the scroll, her gaze was fixed on the tired young man who started to sweat—she almost smiled over this fact— and she said in cracked Spanish, “Do you know ... maybe the music involved this family’s life generally ... or maybe a rather famous musician from this family?”

“As far as I can recall ...,” the regret could be seen in his eyes, “... none. The only particular, and maybe we can call it ‘magnificent’ fact from this family is only that they had the right to settle in the historical building, though they were not anymore exactly before World War happened.”

She caressed her own forehead. _Sorry, Isabella, wait for me for a bit longer, okay, dear?_

**#**

“Tell me your room number.”

She chuckled, “Oh come on, _liebe_ , do you even know where I am?”

“Do you think I don’t have any spies in Madrid?”

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. Nothing she could hide from him, it was impossible to escape when she was still in his region. And it must be Madrid who told him everything. She promised herself to cooperate more with the man in the future.

“’Tonio? Hello, Antonio?!” unfortunate to her, he was already gone in the phone. _Just wait minutes later, Em, and you’ll be over_.

When she reached for beverages she had just bought on the dining table, impatient knocks bugged her and Emma rolled her eyes. Unwillingly, she opened the door for the man whose breath caught in his throat. It tingled her inside, made her pulled his arm into her, dragging him to the bed.

“You are so serious in stopping my way?” she placed her hand on his lap.

“In the other side, Em, are you serious to come until this far only for the broken past that couldn’t be undone?”

“My dearest Spain,” an emphasize she put too much itching his ears, “I know what I’m doing. While I couldn’t heal some wounds I indirectly was the cause, why not?”

“You just don’t know something about it ... so, please, Emma, stop it. Your efforts are fruitless ....” he placed his hand on her crown, brushed her hair slightly.

She refused his touch. “I know you know more than I think of.”

“So listen to me!” he raised his voice out of his intention. “Tomás Luis de Victoria’s music sheet was no longer there in this world! The ghost is talking nonsense!”

“... What are you talking about?”

“The girl. The girl is looking for her birthday gift and no one could grant her demand anymore. Stop it, Emma, even as an amazing person I believe you to be, you couldn’t do it.”

“Thank you for concerning me, my baby, but you know this is not a big thing and I can do fine by myself. I am not amazing myself, but for the sake of a little girl—wait, wait, you mentioned the music sheet she is looking for? Who’s the composer, again? Tomás?”

“Tomás Luis de Victoria. Isabella lived in his era.”

“You even know her name? I thought you were innocent!”

“I’m Spain, Em.” He put his voice hoarse. “So please, come back with me and let’s forget this case.”

“But Isabella—”

“Do you believe in ghosts, at the first place?”

She blinked. When was the last time she tried to reconsider the existence of something called spiritual beings?

“Sometimes indescribable things come to us just to deliver matters helping us to understand this life, to understand the nature.”

“You talk so much philosophical stuffs, Antonio, let’s go straight to the point. What is the point you trying to make? What’s the relation between Isabella and Tomás and can you explain why it was gone? Someone burnt it down before her? Or what?”

“The story is such a long road ....” Antonio pushed himself to go afar from his fear of the past, to lead away the reluctancy to open again the pandora box painfully brought him to the utmost guilt. He took a deep breath, “Promise me, let’s go back to the south before I explain everything from the start.”

**#**

Emma hesitantly paced into the room, she thought probably Isabella was there, waiting for her. Her tears was no longer visible on her cheeks—he had erased it with trailing kisses from her corner of eyes to her tip of lips—but she still felt her eyes as if they were burnt.

“Isabella?”

No answer was heard.

“Isabella, dear, this is me, Emma. Let me tell you a story, won’t you listen to me?”

She was retaliated by the creaking sound of the door she had just shut behind her. Antonio leaned onto the door frame, watching her movement with hurt filled his eyes.

“Isabella ....”

“Isabella!”

Antonio came from behind with stretched arms he eventually use to reach for her waist and he kissed her shoulder blade. She called out once more and disappointingly the wall threw back her voice to her face. If it were not for Antonio who hindered her movements, she would have kicked the surrounding and shouted loud.

**#**

_“Isabella’s Papa gave her a song to play with the harp, composed by the Counter-Reformation era musician, Tomás, specially for her._

_At the same time, I had a clash with my own people. A baron in the southwest was insanely head over heels in love with you who were living with me at the palace at that time. There’s no way I would allow you to be touched by the dirty person like him, Emma, I would rather trade everything in my possession for you back then._

_And he later said that he wanted a piece of Tomás’ work. I could prepare anything else with the composer if he had not put his spies everywhere so that he could eventually find out the song Tomás_   _had composed for Isabella. He wanted it too much he begged me a lot. He told me that if I couldn’t give the song, he would take you in the way even I, their nation, could not stop._

_You are the exchange of the song, in the end with the worst way I could not have ever imagined._

_Isabella’s little family’s life ended up in a very questionable way. They were found dead with mysterious disease we could not find out, what, how and why. The rest of their family suspected that they were poisoned by the baron’s men but no one could prove it and no trace was left of who the murderer was._

_You are the one I defended, Em, but if had any idea of how much the other cost he would ask for, I would have gone to seek another way to deal with him._

_One or two years later, because of the turmoil inside his own family, the residence of the baron was engulfed in fire. Nothing we could save except for his only daughter._

_Nor that sheet.”_

**#**

Emma snuggled closer to Antonio as if the bed was less warmer for her. She heard him whisper _Bella_ in between his line of consciousness and slumber, and eventually batted his eyelashes to greet her.

Five past midnight. Emma sought comfort in his arms. Once again the tears brimmed down her cheeks but he didn’t mind to kiss the tears again, and again.

“I would rather live with that mortal old man, ‘Tonio, than taking her happiness away, moreover, her life.”

“What we know later, is not what we could do then.” He pulled the comforter up to their shoulders. “It is indeed a pain. Years by years, even centuries, I could find another life that drowned the story down to the bottom, but in the end, I am not that strong in killing memories. Emma, you could not feel it alone. I feel guilty too, not really different with what I feel for another civil turmoils I had—indirectly—caused.”

Emma encircled her right arm around his waist. “We indeed the sinners.”

“But what if our initial intention is to seek the final answer for the sake of everyone; the best one for each? Are we sinners?” his voice tickled her earlobe, his dry throat changed his tone she was rather unfamiliar of.

When their eyes meet for the thousand time, Emma pecked his lips and whispered, “I need a musician to compose another song. And I’ll buy a harp. Later, when we come back to a vacation to this place, I’ll play the song.”

Antonio put on his best smile he could offer in the midnight, where half of his mind was already on the dreamland, “I will wait and help.”

**end.**

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: so the conclusion is, the rest is fictional, like the given song composed by the musician, also the residence where they were taking their holiday. i am not sure if there was a part of the castle that you can rent like a hotel room? i’ve never been to the palace anyway *sad laughter* but if it does exist, wow i’d like to go there!
> 
> and uwaaaah this is the longest english fanwork in oneshot i have ever written, i think? and the most important thing is ... please kindly point it out if i made mistakes in the work, gramatically, especially. and the other case, i really want to make it historical but nah let’s live the imagination.  
> and of course, this is a gift for everyone in the fandom who loves spa*bel! this ship needs more fanworks 8’D


End file.
